


A Shipwreck In Your Ghost Arms

by Kokicni



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Comfort, Everyone’s alive, M/M, but it’s all comfort, but no one died!!, guess it’s homo then cus they ain’t said no homo at all, it’s not gay if u say no homo, more Ouma comforting Saihara bc god I fucking live for that, not entirely sure - Freeform, ouma understands saihara’s situation but he’ll never admit that, oumasai, post kg, saihara’s a thankful boy, saihara’s anxiety, saiouma, thats GAY, the fuck is an ‘oma’, there’s no smut I promise, they sleep! together!, theyre soft, vr au??, we keep it holy for atua
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 13:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16556741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kokicni/pseuds/Kokicni
Summary: in which Saihara Shuichi’s anxiety drives him to seek distraction. Instead, he found something better.Comfort. And from the least expected person, at that.Saihara wonders why exactly Ouma Kokichi lets him, of all people, get as close to him as he does. (Physically and emotionally...)





	1. -1

_1:29 AM._

   Before he could say anything about how he was aware of Saihara's presence at his doorframe, he felt the other side of his bed carefully sink in and shaky, gentle arms snake around his torso, pulling him close. He didn't resist; This was routine.

   Another night, another nightmare. Ouma didn't bother turning around, he knew Saihara would feel uncomfortable being stared at in such a vulnerable state. So Ouma lay there in Saihara's arms, both hearts beating close to one another- Different paces, yet so close in proximity.   
 Ouma's eyes refused to shut. He didn't want his heavy eyelids to slip him away to an unconscious state when he knew he could do something to help.

"You don't need to try so hard."

"...Was I being that obvious?" Ouma knits his brows together awkwardly. He felt the arms around his torso give an assuring (yet gentle) squeeze. "No, I just know how you are. You don't need to force yourself to stay awake." Ouma fought the urge to turn around and glare down the taller. " _You_  don't need to force yourself to act so composed all the time." Saihara gets a kick out of that one, snickering.

" _You're_  one to talk."

 " _Mmh_." He can only hum in response, already treading the path of options. He turns around, despite it being against what his mind was telling him.   
He doesn't regret it.   
 Saihara's watching him and they lock eyes for a quick moment as Ouma's body shifts to face his..

  
.. _Friend_.

  
 Upon settling, golden eyes are tucked under a wave of grey, and the prettiest sight Ouma ever did see is suddenly smothered once again as they pull away and stare at nothing in particular.

 "You don't need to linger in the doorway, Saihara." Ouma quietly informs, staring at the shy boy who now held him with ghost arms. He was fragile and Ouma wasn't sure what to do. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to disturb you..." His voice is quiet and full of guilt. Ouma only wanted to run his fingers through his friend's hair and kiss him till he understood that he didn't mind the times they spent together; Even when they were these moments, so vulnerable and easily forgettable. So fragile.  
 Admittedly, Ouma loved it when Saihara came to him. Although he'd never express it outside of his own private thoughts, he knew full and well why. Meaning something to someone was all he really needed, and Saihara was the only one capable of making him feel even slightly close to that.

He suppressed his more intrusive thoughts that strung along that train of thought, then smiled softly to the boy holding him.

 "You could never do that," He explains. And for once he's  _honest_. "If you need something, just come in."  
 Saihara's golden eyes are slowly peeking back over to Ouma. It makes his heart flutter while his nose tingles at the sudden realization of how close they really are.   
_"You're really pretty,_   _Saihara_ ," he wants to say, but chokes it back behind a wavering smile.

He's trying. He really is.

 "Thanks, Ouma..." He heats up hearing those words. Maybe that didn't necessarily mean Ouma was in any way helping the poor boy, but it did mean Saihara was thankful for his attempt.  
  
 He tried hard not to be too obvious. He really  _did_  love Saihara- As if it weren't more than evident- but nobody ever really took it seriously. He couldn't blame them, but it did somewhat hurt hearing that people really didn't believe him when he told the truth of how much the boy meant to Ouma. But then again, if other people didn't take him seriously, then of course, neither did Saihara. So he let it be.   
 If Saihara ever found out Ouma really did care, he'd be over. Needled endlessly with absolute bull-shittery by a bunch of optimistic morons about " _Don't hurt him- If you do, I'll kill you,_ " or " _Don't you go near him, you're only going to influence him,"_  or something along those lines.  
  
After all, everyone hated him. Probably even Saihara, despite the fact he'd probably never admit it to Ouma to spare his poor, sensitive heart.

 

  
_Maybe Saihara only ever bothered to confide in him because he was a liar. Because if he ever tried to talk about it with anyone, nobody would believe him_.

  
 ...  
  


 Ouma smothered the thought before he had time to dwell on it.

 

   They lie on Ouma's bed under the sheets for a good while before Ouma speaks again- unadmittedly a little terrified of the intrusive thoughts plaguing his mind. So much so he tried to distract himself. 

 "Of course, Shumai." He sounds strained. It comes out forced and he internally cringes. He knows it's because it's not like he could decline the offer of helping the taller. Ouma had a soft spot for Saihara whether he wanted to admit it or not, but he tried his best to make it seem exactly what it was at surface level.  _A silly little childish crush._    
  
 But he knew deep down somewhere inside of him, it wasn't just that. And that's what scared him. 

_He shouldn't be getting this attached._

 

 He turns around, his back facing Saihara once again. He needs to breathe.

 

 There's silence for a while before anyone says anything.

 "Ouma?" The voice is worried, and for a split second, Ouma's afraid it's because he's done a shoddy job at being a comfort for the boy.

 "Y-" he begins, before realizing how quiet he is. He coughs, pretending like that's what stopped his word from leaving his mouth the first time.   
"Yes?" His voice is stupidly shaky. He's already mentally beating himself up for letting it be so painfully obvious.

 "Are you sure...? You don't like.. Think it's annoying or anything?" Saihara asks. Ouma takes a moment to respond. "If I thought it was annoying, I wouldn't be letting you come into my room every other night only to hold onto me like I'm a fucking stuffed animal, Saihara."

 And he's right. Saihara hadn't even realized it, but he had his arms wrapped carefully around Ouma's torso like he was some sort of relief teddy bear. It's embarrassing to say the least. Saihara isn't sure if he should apologize and retract, or let it go, letting his actions be noted. He decides on the first, being too tired to deny the fact that he was indeed doing such a thing.

"..Fair." He comments.

 

  
   A short while later, Saihara's convinced Ouma is asleep by now, but decides to ask his question anyway.

 "Why do you let me in?" He quietly whispers, part of him hoping that the small boy in his arms is asleep. He sounded so tired, Saihara felt a little guilty- Like he'd kept Ouma from something both knew he desperately needed. Sleep.  
 Unfortunately for the both of them, Ouma was wide-awake and had no intention of falling asleep any time soon.

 "Why else?" Ouma's quiet as well, but his voice is much much softer. He doesn't sound playful or childish. He sounds rather meaningful. Like there really was something other than a tiny crush that allowed Saihara into Ouma's personal space.

 Saihara knew enough about Ouma to know that he didn't let just anyone be this way with him, so why? Why did Ouma lower his walls just the teensiest bit to someone like him?

  
 Silence. Other than the whispering sounds of gentle breathing, it was utterly silent. It sort of scared Ouma, reminding him of how alone he really felt, even when basking in the company of someone he loved so badly. He was the only one who knew himself. And it frustrated him to no end that even he, the only person who ever really knew himself, still didn't understand himself completely. And a part of him worried nobody ever would. Maybe he was just too complicated.

 "I'm not sure." Saihara replied, almost too low of a mumble for Ouma to even hear.  
 Ouma let out a snicker. He wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was to relieve the growing tension, or maybe it was because he knew why when Saihara didn't.

_Not even a detective can figure me out, Saihara. Isn't that sad_.

   He felt Saihara shift behind him, and another part of him coursed with fear. Maybe it was the mistake of laughing at the wrong time. Was he leaving? Was he angry?  
 Ouma felt the arms around his torso slip away, and suddenly that part of him began to crumble and sink. Where he once felt warm, his body was consumed by the lonely cold. He froze, unsure of if it was a safe choice to turn around and check what was happening. So, he lie on his side, ignoring the loss of warmth and safety that engulfed him just mere seconds ago.

 "Ouma. Look at me." Ouma hesitated, but his voice was far too convincing. It felt soft and welcoming, like he was trying to carefully lure in a baby animal.  
 Ouma warily turned his body, eyes slowly meeting muted gold. Saihara was sitting upright, body and head facing Ouma. His navy hair looked soft despite how messy and slept-on it was. Ouma felt his face heat up, before he quickly suppressed a tickling blush.  
 Saihara's hair fell gently over his eyes as he cocked his head; He lifted a pale, slender hand to his forehead, brushing it away and tucking it behind one ear. His golden irises shimmered, despite the fact it was both dark in the room and his eyes were heavy and tired. He scanned Ouma with a blank face. He was probably thinking deeply about something. Ouma didn't dare interrupt, both out of somewhat worry and fear.  
 He kept himself composed, hoping Saihara couldn't sense the anxiousness coursing through him.

"Ouma." Saihara repeated.

"Yes?" Ouma quirked an eyebrow, forcing an awkward smile.

"Come here." He stated, his expression softening alongside his voice. Ouma felt a shiver run down his spine. His voice was far too alluring to him to decline such an offer.  
 Ouma awkwardly sat up and shifted over closer to Saihara. He refrained from making eye contact, uncomfortable in the thought that Saihara was possibly starting to see the truth.

"Listen, Ouma." He began.  
Ouma wanted to melt. His voice was way too hypnotic.  
He listened.

  
"Look, I don't know why you let me- out of anyone- get this close, but.." Saihara paused to look away, hiding a gentle blush Ouma couldn't seem to make out through the dark. "Thank you. For trusting me. And for- and although not entirely- lowering your walls to me. Even if it is just a little bit. And thank you for what you do; The things you do, like this," He gestured his hands to the both of them, and then around the room. "I want you to know that I appreciate it. I do. I really do." His voice lowered as his eyes shifted back to the small boy before him.  
 Gold met amethyst and both eyes softened at the sight of one another. Ouma couldn't help but let a smile tug his lips. He gave a half-assed 'nishishi' fused with a tired hum. "I love Saihara, why wouldn't I?" He half-joked, grinning exhaustedly as he reached over and booped Saihara's slender nose. Saihara could see the dark circles and heavy bags prominent under Ouma's eyes when he leaned close and pushed the purple hair out of his eyes to poke his nose. Saihara returned the gesture- the smiling, of course- with a more gentle aura.  
 His smile was comforting to Ouma, whose expression seemed to soften as he leaned back from Saihara.

"Heheh.." His violet eyes shifted away, glancing across the room to find something- _Anything_ \- to distract him from getting lost in Saihara's sparkly eyes.  
 Saihara took the moment to admire Ouma's side profile silently, eyes tracing the line of his thin bridge, to his tiny button nose, and down to his lips. That's when Ouma turned to him, catching him mid-stare. Yet, he didn't seem bothered by it whatsoever.

  
 "Saihara?" His eyes were big and glossy and they stared up at him like wide puppy dog eyes.

"Hm?" Saihara tilted his head slightly, letting a small smile pull his lips as he looked down at Ouma.  
Ouma didn't deserve to be the target of such a sweet smile.

  
"Why do you come to me?"

  
and there it was.

 

 Here he was, letting Saihara know that one single question that'd been stuck to his mind since day one.  
And he began to regret it the moment it slipped off his tongue.

  
 Saihara twisted his eyebrows up, expression gradually shifting into a concerned look. "Is- Do you- Does it bother you?" Saihara frowned. Ouma quickly lifted his hands up in a defensive manner, open palms out at his chest. "No!" He quickly caught himself and regathered. " _No_ , that's not- I wasn't talking about.." He looked away, eyes shifting down to glance at the floor.

How could he word it?

  
 "There's _other_ people, you know." He solemnly states. His voice is scarily low, and Saihara's chest aches at the far too familiar tone. "You could've gone to someone else."  
 Saihara isn't exactly sure what to say. He's worried his words, if not phrased properly, could hurt the boy. He knows why he did it, he just isn't quite sure if he's able to correctly put it into words.   
 He looks away, eyes lifting to the window. A sliver of silver moonlight slips through the cuts in the blinds and spills inside in thin streaks, painting walls with fluorescent stripes across the room. Noticing this made the room feel even darker than before. His internal worry began to sink in.

  
 "I could've, but I didn't." He took a moment to sit and stare through the momentary silence. "You know that I wouldn't come to you without reason." Saihara turned back to view Ouma. His eyes are now hidden, his long dark hair curtaining the violet irises Saihara grew to somewhat admire over the course of their time together.  
He can't even make out the smaller's face.

"Of course." He turned to Saihara briefly before looking away again. It's too short of a glance for Saihara to puzzle together if whether or not he'd just glared at his response.  
"But what was your reason?" He physically pauses, which catches Saihara's attention. He hadn't even noticed the twiddling of Ouma's thumbs until the action ran its course and came to a halt.  
 His eyes shifted back up to meet Ouma staring at him blankly. Saihara blinks.

 Saihara looked down at the sheets. "You- Uh... You were... Ah. Um. The only one... awake... at the time..." He's quiet as he tries his best to formulate a properly functioning sentence. Ouma doesn't react right away, which shouldn't concern Saihara as much as it does.  
 He glances up, greeted by tired eyes drained of all color and emotion. He's afraid he's said the wrong thing.

  
"You and I are both aware that the others are all probably awake right now too. Why do you continue to keep coming to _me_ if you supposedly ' _know how I am?_ '" He tilts his head, but he doesn't let his childish mask slip back on. He's serious and his face is evidence of it.  
 Saihara knitted his eyebrows together, tilting his head and frowning.

"What are you talking about?"

  
"You have _friends_ , Saihara. Friends you could go to with your problem. You could explain to _them_ what you explained to _me_ , and leave me. But you didn't. You _don't_. You came to me- _a_ _liar_ , _the most hated person here_ \- to talk to. You said you know how I am, and I don't doubt that you do to some extent- Because you _do_ , much more than the others- but if you know, you should also know that I'm not good at whatever it is you're expecting from me. I'm not."

   Saihara's blank. _How did this even get brought up_? he wonders. "I'm not expecting anything from you, Ouma." He speaks faster than his mind can process the information he'd been given just seconds ago. Ouma just blinks. "I came to you initially because no one else was awake the first time I decided I couldn't keep facing it alone. I hoped you would distract me from it all with your weird games and tricks and..." Saihara faded out, looking down again.

 "You were confusing at first, Ouma. I didn't really understand you, but I wanted to. I thought by then I had at least a decent idea of who you were, but I was wrong. I went to you thinking you'd distract me from my mind, and instead, you..." He felt the mattress shift under him. He cut himself off, looking to see what had happened.  
 Ouma had stood up, walked over to the window, and was staring out the blinds.

"Instead, you noticed. You noticed and instead of distracting me, you _comforted_ me." He lowered his voice, tone growing much softer than he'd intended.


	2. -2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara thinks over the first time he turned to Ouma, in hopes of figuring out the answer to where exactly Ouma had let him in and why.

[ 3:47 AM ]

Veins of fear coursed all throughout his body like roots underground. He clenched a fist, stamping crescent moons in the palm of his sweat-drenched hands. "Goh- G- Oh, god... Not- Not again..." He panted, lurching upright in his bed. He clutched his sheets, shaky hands holding onto familiarity as though it depended on his life. His eyes frantically searched for a target to lock on, yet failing to meet a sight that calmed his nerves. He jolted out of bed, his whole frame trembling. He looked like a paper doll in the wind. His body looked fragile and his terror-ridden mind only sought one thing. Distraction.   
It was the only help he ever really seemed to know.   
A temporary fix.   
It felt like decades had passed by the time he was able to reach the door. He quite actually fell numerous times on the way over, as his wobbly legs felt like noodles and his arms felt far too weak to help him balance himself out. One foot after the other.   
Breathe in. Breathe out.   
Why aren't these fucking exercises working?!   
He snapped (partially) back to reality when he reached the outside of his room.   
What now?  
He felt vulnerable outside of his cocoon (Not to say he didn't feel vulnerable inside, though) like a deer in the headlights. His eyes traced down the narrow hallway. He shut his door and began to tremble-walk, following the path of the rooms until he came to a stop. Distraction.   
Without thought, without hesitation, a pale fist rose to the door and drummed an awkward knock. An almost immediate response. The door clicked, and a familiar figure peeked through the crack separating the door and the doorframe. Amethyst irises landed on the deer- Saihara- standing before them. Before he could even blink, the navy-haired boy was staring at a fragile figure of a small stature, standing, watching him from a large doorway. Saihara's eyes focused on the wide violet eyes staring him down, and his fist subconsciously unclenched. He felt his muscles relax as he stared at the familiar boy in the other room. And then the boy blinked, which snapped Saihara from his trance.   
"Saihara?" The smaller stared at him with wide, confused eyes. He cocked his head to the side, messy purple hair spilling over his eyes. A small hand tucked the stray strands behind a pink-tinted ear as Saihara blinked. "What are you doing here?" The smaller stared with such confusion and curiosity sparkling in his eyes. He appeared somewhat similar to a confused puppy. Saihara looked away, eyes shifting to his feet out of pure habit. "I had a feeling you'd be awake right now." He mumbled. Ouma let out a confused noise as he knit his eyebrows together. "Can I help you?" He asked, probably rhetorically, but Saihara was far too deep in other thoughts to confirm his suspicions. "What's.. What's up?" Saihara forced himself to peer at the boy in the doorframe, cracking the fakest smile ever to grace his lips. "..." Ouma stared at him blankly as he kept silent. He then felt a delicate pressure on his wrists, and before he knew what was even going on, he found himself inside the apartment he'd been standing outside of for god-knows-how-long, with a boy he barely knew anything about. He blinked. Anxiety clouded his mind, suppressing his typical "This should be a bad idea" type-thoughts. He was hardly thinking, yet at the same time, he was slowly staring to become more aware of what was happening.   
"Saihara you don't just do things without reason. What are you doing here this early in the morning?" Ouma's tone is serious as he walks Saihara over to the couch, sitting him down and letting go of his wrists as he takes a step back to cross his arms. Saihara opens his mouth to speak, but they refuse to come out. He's silent, and looks almost like a broken toy (He secretly feels like one too). Ouma quickly catches sight of the subconscious movements Saihara displays. Movements he's far too familiar with. Violet eyes watch intently as Saihara bounces his leg in quick movements, refusing to settle and stay still. His fingers tap his bouncing knee in syncopated rhythm. He must have an instinct to move when he's anxious. He frowns, recognizing the situation. He lowers his arms and lets his expression fall flat again. "You could've gone somewhere else. I'm not good at.. that stuff." His eyes dart elsewhere, avoiding the awkward eye contact with Saihara just in case he might've misread. "Wh- What?" Saihara manages to let out, which brings back Ouma's attention. "If I misread, feel free to inform me on why you're here, then." Ouma stares, crossing his arms again. Saihara sits silently, eyes locked on the ones staring him down. Everything felt so familiar, yet somehow so foreign. He felt his anxiety bubbling up again, and forced himself to look away. He should've thought this out more, he concludes.   
"Saihara.." the familiar voice pulls him back to reality, it's gentle; it's much softer than he'd ever heard. It's unfamiliar, but it isn't a bad familiar. He blinks. "Saihara, are... Are you okay?" He's gentle when he reaches a small hand out to the taller. Saihara flinches upon contact, but eventually settled into the touch. His eyes are wide as though he's just been pulled back to the surface after staying under water for so long. He examined the face in front of him, a worried expression staining a typically emotionally vague face. "Wait here," Ouma gave a pained smile before standing up and disappearing into what Saihara could only guess was the kitchen. He sat there on the couch, trying to calm himself down as he picked at a chipped nail.   
Ouma returned with a glass of water, sitting down carefully beside Saihara, as though not to scare off a tiny animal. "Drink." He stated. Saihara reached a shaky hand over to the clear glass, slowly raising it up to his chapped lips. He took a sip, eyes fixated on the water draining from the cup. They sat in silence for a good couple minutes as Saihara steadied his breathing and Ouma patiently waited. Upon finishing, Saihara shyly set the cup on the coffee table in front of them. He pulls back, turning to meet Ouma's gaze. "Can you talk now?" Ouma asked, his concerned expression shifting into one of patience. Saihara looked away, eyes averting Ouma's. "Y-Yeah..." He mumbled, just loud enough for Ouma to hear. "Hey, Saihara, listen.." Ouma began, clearing his throat. Saihara shifted his sitting, awkwardly turning to look at Ouma as he spoke. His long purple hair was tied back- Something he hadn't even noticed before. It was messily thrown up, as stray strands hung everywhere. If Saihara wasn't so focused on his anxiety and calming himself down, he might've taken the time to admire the boy and his features. Instead, he just inspected. He looked somewhere halfway between entirely and completely awake, and yet also half asleep already. A state Saihara, himself, knew too well. "If you get this way, you should really see someone about it." He spoke casually. Saihara pursed his lips, unsure of how to respond. He felt as though he were getting lectured by a superior. "Well... No one else is really up right now." His eyes followed Ouma's, who briefly looks down, only to lift his head back up to view Saihara. "It'd be better to deal with it alone than coming here. You're smart, shouldn't you know that?" Ouma quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head. "That's not true," Saihara quickly throws back. Saihara's sudden enthusiasm catches Ouma off guard, causing Ouma to sit up and let his expression neutralize. They sit for a solid minute before Saihara grows heavily unsure of why he decided to burst like that. He looks away, turning his body away as well. "I just- You're the only one I knew would be awake right now. Everyone else is asleep and.. Even if they were awake, I'm not sure if they'd know how to.. handle... this...." Saihara awkwardly faded out before covering his face with his hands.   
"Sorry," he stood up letting his hands slip off his face and pull to each other instead. "You're right, I should've just dealt with this by myself." He mumbled, face growing hot as he neared the door. Ouma stood up as Saihara rested his hand on the knob, "Handle? You thought I'd be able to provide comfort?" His voice betrays his eyes- Not that Saihara can see. His tone sounds somewhat... Judgmental, but his eyes tell the truth when his voice cannot. He understands. He feels empathy welling inside of him. His heart tells him to help, but his mind tells him to push him away, that he's only going to cause more damage. That he shouldn't have even let him in the apartment.   
Saihara stands at the door, paused. He shakes his head. "No. Distraction."   
"Why would you want distraction?" Ouma furrowed his brows. "It's the only way I know how to deal with this. And nobody else knows how to distract me better than you." He turns around, his face is flushed, most likely on the verge of tears. His voice is low and quiet, so much so that it slightly frightens Ouma. "You.." He begins to speak, before realizing how soft his voice has become. He isn't sure he wants to let Saihara see him this way. He's never gotten comfort? Against everything his mind is telling him, he wants the taller to stay. He wants to comfort him. He understands.   
"Stay." He gathers himself enough to muster up a clear, firm response. This seems to surprise the other, who's eyes slightly widen. His hand carefully slips off the doorknob, but he doesn't quite move from his spot at the door just yet. Ouma's staring straight at him, part of him is afraid he's going to suddenly gain the ability to burn a hole right through Saihara. But he doesn't. His expression is stern, and he holds his place. "..Stay?" Saihara softly repeats. "Stay." Ouma nods. Saihara briefly looks away, "...Okay.." He quietly accepts. Ouma feels himself relax, which is somewhat surprising to him. He doesn't say anything about it. He turns around and heads back to the kitchen, leaving Saihara stranded alone in the living room. "W-Wait-!" He stammers, quickly following after, both unsure of what to do and afraid of being alone.   
He steps foot into Ouma's kitchen, lingering in the doorframe as his eyes fall on Ouma. He's working a coffee pot, something Saihara would've never guessed he even knew how to do. Then again, they weren't kids anymore. They were adults. Full-grown, moved out, employed, and responsible. Well, somewhat.   
He felt himself tense up as he watched Ouma walk around the kitchen. His purple hair bounced with every step, another stray hair falling down in his face. He subconsciously reached to tuck it behind his ear. Saihara gently smiled at this. Ouma opened a cabinet door, clearly far too short to reach the shelf. He watched as Ouma turned to him with a patient expression. Patient or tired, he couldn't tell. "Yes?" He raised an eyebrow. Saihara flushed, looking away. "Sorry, I just- I don't know.. what to do...." He awkwardly rubbed his arm, embarrassed. Ouma looked over Saihara, looking him up and down. He met his eyes once again as Saihara glanced over. "Do you want something to eat?" He asked. He'd never seem Ouma this way before. It felt unreal watching Ouma be so domestic. It'd never occurred to Saihara that Ouma was probably just as much like the others than he'd initially thought. Not that he saw him as different or that he didn't belong, it was just.. unusual to the character he was used to seeing. It seemed almost out of character to the façade Ouma constantly displayed. Saihara would never be able to figure him out, would he?  
"Um.. I'm fine, thank you.." Saihara quietly mumbled, looking down to his feet. Ouma nods, then climbs up on the counter to reach for a mug. Saihara glances up, watching the scenario. He wants to chuckle at the sight, but he doesn't. Ouma takes out a plain black mug and closes the cabinet before climbing down. He picks up the mug, and on his way back to the coffee maker, his eyes momentarily meet Saihara's. He flashes a grin, which seems to catch Saihara's breath. Saihara breaks the eye contact, looking away. He decides it'd be best to sit down and try to calm himself from his racing thoughts. He leaves the door frame and sits down on the far right end of the couch, closest to the kitchen entry way.   
It's a couple of minutes before Ouma returns, but he sits patiently and waits. He listens to the clink of the mug and the pour of the coffee. He listens to all the noises made in the kitchen, and somehow, it seems to calm him down. He isn't sure why, but the company he has- Despite it being Ouma, how ironic- seems to put him at ease. He listens to the fridge open and close, the clatter of objects hitting each other, a drawer opening and closing, the clink clink of a spoon against the mug's glass sides; It's a lullaby that almost lulls Saihara to sleep. He's quick to react to the familiar figure entering the room, though, sitting up properly and blinking his eyes back open. Ouma quietly re-enters, setting down a plate of toast with grape jam on the coffee table in front of Saihara. Saihara curiously glances up to Ouma, who stands before him, mug in hand. "I know you said you didn't want anything, but I know a liar when I see one." He states, then takes a sip of his coffee before walking around the coffee table to sit down beside him. Saihara looks down at the toast, an unfamiliar warm feeling buzzing in his chest. He picks up the plate and rests it in his lap as he turns his head to the boy beside him. He's staring into nothing, probably zoned out as he sips his coffee beside Saihara. Saihara and Ouma both aren't quite sure how they got there, but neither are complaining. It's comforting to both, though at the moment, they'd never admit it.   
Saihara looks down at his plate, picking up the toast and taking a bite. He's never seen Ouma this quiet, either. He seems at peace as well, and it helps Saihara calm down just a tad. "Thank you, Ouma." It takes a while for one of them to break the ice, but Saihara's intent on doing so. Ouma looks up to meet Saihara's eyes. "Sure." He blinks. He isn't sure what Saihara is thanking him for. The toast? The water? Letting him stay? But he replies anyway, because he genuinely doesn't mind it much at all. He secretly needs (and craves) the company just as much as Saihara.   
They both enjoy each other's silent company until they finish what they were doing. 

Ouma turns to Saihara, who's resting his chin in his hands. His elbows are propped up on his knees, and his eyelids are shut gently. Ouma wants to reach out and brush the hair out of his face, but he resists such an urge. He's just really pretty, so Ouma can't help himself but think such things. He looks away before those thoughts start filling his mind, standing up and carefully picking up the plate on the coffee table. He enters the kitchen and sets the dishes in the sink. I'll deal with those in the morning, he tells himself. As he re-enters the living room, his eyes meet sight of Saihara again. He wants to smile at how peaceful Saihara looks, but instead uses that energy to wake the boy. He walks over, careful not to disturb the other. He crouches down, then gently taps Saihara's elbow. "Saihara..?" He tilts his head, his voice soft and gentle. Saihara blinks awake, his long eyelashes batting like fluttering wings. "Huh?" He tiredly mumbles out, his eyes slowly adjusting to sight once more. His eyes land on a familiar figure in front of him, before finally focusing. His heart rate increases upon realizing it's Ouma, and the heat runs to his face as well as the blood. He blushes, turning red. "S- Sorry, I didn't mean to knock out like that.." He mumbles, embarrassed. His heart won't stop racing, and part of him is convinced it's because of how god damn cute Ouma is. But he tells himself that's not the case, as he turns his focus back to the boy. He blinks his big puppy-dog eyes, tilting his head the other way. "Huh? No, that's okay." He nods, giving a brief smile. "You should be sleeping anyway, I was just asking to see if you were going to stay. I could get you a blanket." Ouma offers, staring wide-eyed and sweetly at Saihara, who's trying so damn hard to focus his mind on the kind act rather than how fucking cute this boy looks right now. He manages an inaudible "Yes please," nodding, before looking away. "I hope this isn't too much. I'm sorry," He begins to apologize, before Ouma shuts him down. "Saihara, quit apologizing." He stands up, walking away as he continues speaking. "You know, you apologize a little too much. I offered to let you in, I'm offering to let you stay over. It's not that big of a deal, it's not like you came uninvited." He almost shouts from across the room as he pulls out a blanket from a thin closet. Saihara's turned around on the couch, watching Ouma as he walks back over. His head follows, like a dog whose attention is caught.  He watches Ouma set the blanket down in Saihara's lap, then steps back and mumbles something along the lines of "And it's not like I get visitors often, anyway." It sort of feels like a punch at Saihara's heart, but he ignores it and decides that he probably wasn't supposed to hear that, so he won't comment on it. He unfolds the blanket and lays it across the couch, before looking back over to see what Ouma was doing. He stands and watches, arms crossed as he meets Saihara's eyes. "Uh.." He awkwardly lets out, before Ouma sighs dramatically and catches Saihara's attention. He blinks, and his eyes widen a bit as Ouma's arms fall to his side from resting his hands behind his neck. "You'll be fine, just try not to get so worked up this time." He boredly looks away, and Saihara wonders if Ouma will pretend this never happened after its all over, or if he would remember just like Saihara. He wonders if Ouma did choose to acknowledge that this really happened, if he would tell everyone about it, or if he would just keep it between Saihara and him. He's unsure of why it matters to him, so he tries to ignore it. Saihara nods. "Right.." he mumbles, laying down across the couch and tucking himself under the sheet. His eyes fixate on the ceiling as he listens to Ouma walk away (Probably back to his room). Then he hears it pause, and Ouma's voice quietly speaks again. "But if you do, I'm just in here."   
Saihara feels a warm buzzing in his chest, which lulls him into comfort and rest. 

The next morning is normal. Ouma waves him goodbye at the doorway, and he doesn't seem to pretend that it didn't happen. In fact, he's rather happy and energetic when sending Saihara off, acknowledging his presence entirely. Saihara's glad, and he wants to say he appreciates Ouma's hospitality, but isn't quite sure how to say it without freaking the boy out. So he doesn't, but he's sure Ouma's aware of his thankfulness.


	3. -3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara reflects on his second visit to Ouma’s apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably the trashiest chapter yet (and the shortest), but hey, it’s better than nothing! I actually wrote something! whoa! shocker!!

[ 4:39AM ]

It wasn't until another week later that Saihara found himself standing in front of Ouma's door in the early hours of the morning. He isn't quite sure yet why he returns to Ouma, but he tells himself it's because he isn't sure if anyone else is currently awake. again.  
He raises a fist to the door, and carefully knocks. It takes a moment before the door unlocks and it creaks open slowly. Saihara awkwardly fidgets his standing position as he shakes his wrists out anxiously. He needs movement. Ouma's vivid eyes peek out at him through the crack in the door, and Saihara forces an uncomfortable smile. Ouma pushes open the door a little more, just enough for Saihara to see him completely now. He wore a giant tee-shirt and very short shorts, which allowed Ouma to expose his rather bare and twig-like legs. He was very pale, but a somewhat rosy pale. It was a youthful yet unhealthy glow Ouma had, and the sight alone was both attractive yet worrisome. But Saihara wasn't quite in the right state of mind to focus on this, as he stared right back at the boy watching him with confused and worried eyes. "Good morning?" Ouma furrowed his eyebrows. "H-Hey. You're up early." Saihara tries to be casual, and fails miserably. Ouma frowns, opening the door all the way, now. He reaches for Saihara and carefully wraps his delicate fingers around Saihara's wrist, pulling him into the apartment carefully. He shuts the door quietly, before locking it again out of pure habit. Saihara notices this, but doesn't take it far too seriously. His mind is elsewhere and it's evident seeing as he doesn't seem to notice his entire frame is trembling under Ouma's fingertips. He isn't even aware of what's happening anymore, until he snaps back to reality when Ouma calls his name. He blinks and he finds himself on Ouma's couch again, facing the small boy who stares at him blankly. "Saihara, answer me." He says. Saihara blinks again. "Wait, what?" He asks gently, a little afraid of pissing off the smaller. Ouma doesn't seem to get irked at Saihara's blanking, though. Instead, he repeats himself. "What happened?" He asks. He seems more himself, rather than the gentle and domestic Ouma Saihara had seen the last time. His tone is more casual, like they were having any normal conversation. His tone is casual, like he wasn't just sitting in front of Saihara with his arms and legs and neck exposed the way it was right then. It was an unusual thing for the smaller, to be so... Open. Ouma is casual, like this was some normal thing they did every other night, when it wasn't. "Oh... Well, uh.." Saihara looks away. He isn't sure how to explain it. No. Actually, scratch that. Saihara isn't quite sure how he should go about explaining it. Does he tell the entire story, sparing no details, or does he just summarize it? He bites his lip in thought, before returning his mind back to the present. He shrugs, looking at Ouma. "I- I guess I needed some company." He awkwardly coughs out, a sad attempt to try and laugh. He swears to himself that he can see Ouma's shoulders visibly sink a little after hearing this, and he's more than sure about the empathetic frown that grazes his face for a mere moment before it's buried beneath a mask of emotions. Part of Saihara wants to be the one to help Ouma leave behind his mask someday. Or, at least, be able to understand the him under the mask.  
   "Ok!" He seems to perk up from his calm state, grinning from ear to ear as he stands up from the couch. Saihara's eyes follow with curiosity and confusion, yet he remains planted in his spot on the couch. "We should do something, then." Ouma holds his index up to his chin thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling with wonder. "Like... Like what?" Saihara asks quietly, tilting his head. Ouma looks back down at him and his wide puppy eyes blink into a blank stare. "We should light candles and chant to Atua. I've got some unfinished business with dead people." Ouma flatly states. Saihara furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly very confused. "What?" And Ouma's face twists back to his typical giddy expression. He grins, letting out a laugh. "That's a lie." He informs, before plopping back down on the couch beside Saihara again. They're quiet for a moment before Saihara speaks up. "Hey, Ouma.." "hm?" Ouma hums in response. "Why are you helping me?" Saihara gently asks, staring at the small boy beside him. "Huh?" Ouma turns to meet Saihara's gaze, wide-eyed. "Oh." He lets his shoulders slump as his eyes gradually drift from Saihara's. "Well," he looks at the wall, thinking for a moment. Saihara watches how his foot kicks and bounces around before pausing. Saihara glances up to Ouma, who turns to look at him as well. "If I can get you to trust me, then maybe I might be able to get you to join my organization." Ouma grinned, raising a slender finger to his chin. Saihara tossed an unimpressed expression, easily able to conclude that was a lie. "I'm serious." He calmly states- Well, as calmly as he can for his current state. He finds this train of thought bringing him to the realization that his fingers are fumbling around with the sleeves of his shirt. He clutches a fist, forcing himself to appear more in control when he very well knew he was not. Ouma just blinks and replies with a sickeningly sweet voice, "Hi serious, I'm Ouma." He snickers, and Saihara looks down at his hands, shaking his head. "Hey, it's real early, Saihara. Did you get any sleep?" Ouma tilts his head, staring at Saihara, his vibrant purple irises burning curiously into Saihara. "Eh? No, not really." Saihara replied, looking to Ouma from his hands. "Geez, you can't just not sleep, Saihara!" Ouma cried, quickly standing up and disappearing into some room. Saihara sits patiently and waits for Ouma, passing the time by bouncing his knee and analyzing the room from his spot on the couch. He hadn't really taken time to notice how organized Ouma was; He never would've taken him as a neat freak. But he is, somewhat, and maybe there's a reason behind it that he isn't aware of. He thinks to himself that maybe he'd know one day. Is that something he wants? He's unsure at the moment, but he mentally notes this fact for later. Just in case.  
   Ouma returns a moment later, a blanket and a pillow cradled in his arms. He looks like he's about to topple over. Saihara quickly shoots up, worried about the boy who's about to trip over his own two feet. "D-Do you need help?" "I'm good!" Lie. Saihara rushes over to his side, "Here, I got this-" His voice is panicked as he reaches for the giant blanket underneath the pillow in Ouma's arms. Ouma lets Saihara snatch the blanket as he shifts the pillow and hugs it close to his chest. "How sweet of you!" Ouma grins, burying his nose in the pillow as he glances up at Saihara. Saihara raised an eyebrow at the boy, before deciding not to say anything in response. He returned a smile instead- One of thanks. He's sure Ouma understands, because Ouma grins back and then proceeds into the living room. Saihara follows, and watches as Ouma drops the pillow on the couch and turns to Saihara expectantly. Saihara gets the hint and plops the blanket down as well. There's a moment of silence, but it isn't as awkward as Saihara is used to silences being. They stand staring at the couch for a second before Saihara turns to Ouma with curiosity. "Ouma?" He asks. "Hm?" Ouma turns to face him, blinking as he awaits Saihara's response. "You... You know why I'm up.. Right?"  Saihara asks gently. "Uh. Duh." Ouma scrunches his eyebrows together, staring at Saihara as if he'd just asked the dumbest thing in the world. "Well.. You know why I am, but why are you always awake so late at night?" He genuinely wonders, and he hopes for at least an honest response. But that's expecting a lot from Ouma, so his hopes aren't too high. "Hm.." Ouma looks away momentarily, his chin resting in his hand. "What's it to you?" He glances back to Saihara, raising a sly eyebrow and a smirk. "Well, I mean... I'm a little curious. You tell me to sleep, that it's important to sleep, but you, yourself, don't seem to practice what you preach." Saihara raises an eyebrow back to Ouma in return, a small smile as he watches the smaller boy before him. He erupts into a small giggle before jabbing his index finger into Saihara's chest. "You're one to talk." He grins, Saihara chuckling lightly because he knows it's true. "But really, Ouma, you should sleep, too." His voice softens along with his smile and his gaze. Ouma's grins fades away, and Saihara sits and watches as Ouma briefly looks the other way. Saihara's smile fades as well, turning into a look of sad sympathy. "I don't have time for that." Ouma responds a couple minutes later, turning to Saihara. "And I don't need it, or desire it." He smiles his usual up-beat smile, but Saihara feels off-put knowing it's falsity. "Oh." Is all Saihara can bring himself to say. His eyes automatically fall to the couch again, and they stand another moment in silence. "You'll be ok, Saihara! You're in good hands." Ouma pats Saihara's shoulder, his voice as cheery as usual. "You know where to find me if you need me." He grins, turning his attention to the taller. Violet meets gold. "Right.." Saihara looks back to the couch and shuffles over, sitting down as Ouma makes his way across the room to shut off the lights.  
As he heads to his room, one inch away from stepping in, Saihara quickly turns around. "Ouma." He calls, his voice at a reasonable volume. Ouma's attention is caught, and his eyes shift over. He blinks, staring wide-eyes in curiosity and confusion. "You can come to me too if anything is ever wrong." Saihara calmly states. Ouma just stares at the boy before nodding slowly and disappearing into the dark. 

 

[ 7:26 AM ]

Clatter. Saihara shot awake, running his hands through his hair. What time was it? His initial instinct is to freeze and watch the entry to the kitchen. That has to be where the noise had come from. "Ouma...?" He quietly calls, slowly standing up from his spot on the couch. He makes his way over, warily peeking around the corner. His eyes catch sight of a familiar figure at the sink. Then he hears the quiet sound of running water. "...Ouma?" Saihara quietly repeats. That seems to do the trick, as the figure freezes up in acknowledgement of Saihara's voice. "Is everything alright?" Saihara asks, a little worried. He furrows his eyebrows and slowly begins to make his way over. He's unsure, but he thinks he can see the slight trembling in Ouma's small frame. He reaches a gentle hand out, but doesn't touch him quite yet. His fingertips hover inches from Ouma's skin and he can't feel a single trace of warmth even from how close his is to the boy's skin.  "Saihara, do you mind giving me a moment?" Ouma's voice sounds tired, and Saihara can hear it prominently. "Oh.. O- Of course... I'll be out in the living room?" He casts a thumb over his shoulder, backing up slowly. As Saihara goes to give the smaller his space, his eyes catch a glimpse of Ouma as he turns to face Saihara.  
   He isn't given nearly enough time to figure out if he's correct, but Saihara is now 80 percent positive he had just walked in on Ouma crying.


End file.
